


Meet my Family

by Blue (memequeens)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Acceptance, Arab Character, Arab vs German family side, F/M, Funny, Meet the Family, Romantic Comedy, intercultural family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 14:19:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18802051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memequeens/pseuds/Blue
Summary: A story about a young woman, introducing her boyfriend to her half Arab, half German family





	Meet my Family

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I gifted this story to my wonderful mother for Mother's Day!  
> For once, this is not Yoonmin but something I - as a mixed kid - could relate to pretty well. Please note that nothing is meant to be harmful or disrespectful towards any race or religion, all stereotypes are not based on prejudices but simply inspired by my own personal life. I love my family despite it being chaotic and I hope many of you can enjoy this shortstory! 
> 
> Big thanks to my sisters for beta reading!! <3 And of course, a Happy Mother's Day to all wonderful moms out there!! 
> 
> ENJOY

To say that I was nervous would be an understatement. My hands were sweating, my lips hurt from chewing on them and I needed to pee for the probably 5th time in the past two hours. You might think I was about to have an exam, that I was stressing over an important appointment or in some kind of Hunger Games universe where I had to fight to survive. Well, this wasn’t too different, if you ask me. I was about to face my family. Now, that wasn’t the problem, I _love_ _d_ my family; the problem was the person who I was with. Which was my boyfriend. My boyfriend who had never met any family member of mine and was about to face the whole gang at once. I knew I was definitely screwed.

 

My name is Miriam Khalil. If you meet me, you’d think I’m the typical 24 year old university student, trying to balance my communication and media science studies and my work at the local ice cream shop to use the rest of my time with whatever social life I have left. However, my daily life does look a little bit different: Between babysitting one of my hundred cousins, helping in my uncle’s kiosk, pretending to listen to my father’s speeches about marriage, men and make-up and trying my hardest to look independent in front of the German side of my family, I split the little time that I have left into studying, social media and… my boyfriend.

 

Falling in love was _not_ scheduled in my timetable. In fact, it wasn’t planned to happen until I was at least 28, so that I have enough time to scroll through Instagram, Twitter and Pinterest after classes and could completely focus on my two plants that needed more than enough love from me already. And I wanted to learn at least one more language. But instead of Swedish, Japanese or Arabic, I learned something different. I learned to love.

 

If you had asked me a year ago what my future husband would look like, I would have answered with a description that suspiciously fitted Chris Hemsworth or Ryan Gosling. I didn’t quite expect to meet a lanky, 6.3 feet tall, pale man with a tiny gap between his front teeth and hair that had the colour of coal. And to top it off, I did not expect to fall for an _artist_. I had thought that years of listening to punk rock and Britney Spears hits had made me immune to the powers of an artsy boy with a guitar and a practised wink. But it seemed that all my alarm systems left me the second I ran into Daniel Buchwald, the local singer songwriter standing at the sidewalk, hoping to sell some of his artwork online while waiting for a famous producer to magically discover him. I mean… at least it’s not an actor, right?

 

“I can practically hear you stress yourself out, stop thinking so much”, Daniel told me, reaching out to hold my hand as we walked towards my parent’s apartment. It’s a sweet gesture but his hand holding onto my clammy palm was really anything but comforting.

 

“How exactly does one _not think so much_ , Dan?” It meant to sound like a joke but my natural sarcastic undertone made it sound more like a jab at him. I squeezed his hand once to assure him that I didn’t mean to snap at him and he let it go. He knew better than to start a discussion when I was already freaking out internally.

 

“Is there anything I need to be careful about?”, he asked instead, looking less confident the closer we got to the apartment, “Any taboo topics?”

 

_Well, where do I start?_

 

“Don’t talk about parties, alcohol, drugs or anything that will make you look like a bad influence. If my parents find out you’re smoking or have tattoos you’re basically on their blacklist. Mentioning that you’re hoping to become a professional singer probably isn’t a good idea as well… Oh, and if they ask you, you’re _religious.”_ I didn’t even need to look to know what kind of expression Daniel had on his face. We’ve had this talk before.

 

“I told you I don’t reject the idea of a higher entity that maybe mirrors the belief of something divine being stronger than humans. I just have a hard time adjusting to religion as a belief system rather than a resource for culture or an instrument to control people’s behaviour”, he said in a calmer tone than I would have expected. I was surprised again and again by my boyfriend’s ability to not go from 0 to 100 in a matter of seconds. Something I still had to learn.

 

“I know and I respect your opinion on this. But please, for the love of God, don’t question my family’s stand towards religion. Do it for your own sake, okay? We both don’t want to start a discussion that will just go back and forth until it’s too late to continue. Fights like this don’t ever end on a common ground, especially not with my family.” I heaved a sigh, feeling like this meeting was a bad idea. I wanted my family to meet Daniel but maybe they were just a little too different. Did I enjoy to muzzle him? Of course not. I loved him _for_ his way of thinking, for his view of the world and because he was more open minded than I was a lot of times. I wasn’t aware of how prejudiced I was about certain topics until he pointed it out and it was something I appreciated and learned from.

 

However, I knew it wasn’t that easy with my parents. They lived a different life, grew up in different times and cultures and weren’t as influenced by social media or their social surroundings as me or my sister were. It was for my own sanity that I often avoided a discussion about certain things.

 

Daniel didn’t let go of my hand until we were there, right in front of the only door that would ever scream ‘home’ to me, no matter where I moved to. This was where I grew up and the people inside the ones closest to me. They knew me like no one else, accompanied me through the times where I wasn’t the same person I was now and impacted me more than any other person I met on the way. Letting Daniel into this world was a big step and I was – quite honestly – terrified.

 

“Here we go”, he singsonged, sounding more nervous than before any of his gigs and showcases. Understandable.

 

The door swung open and my sister greeted us, well, more like mumbling “Hi” while looking awfully uncomfortable. My 16 year old sister was anything but a social butterfly and I could already imagine my mother having forced her in a whisper-scream to open the door while she prepared the rest of the food.

 

“Ah, you must be Aaliyah!”, Daniel greeted, pronouncing her name in an adorably wrong way. I would have giggled if not of the dark look on my sister’s face as she glared at him. It was in that moment I realised that I forgot to tell Daniel that my sister absolutely _hated_ her name.

 

“It’s Ally.” She stormed away from the door, putting her earphones in. When Daniel gave me a helpless look, I simply shrugged, hoping this wouldn’t become an issue later on. Teenagers were easily irritated but their mood would probably change.

 

I took off my shoes and quickly prompted Daniel to do the same. We slowly walked towards the living room where we met my father, sitting on the couch, a ridiculous polo shirt draped over his round belly and a chubby finger scratching his black moustache; his mother next to him, a white headscarf covering her head and a bowl of nuts in her hands; my mother’s mother, sitting on the other couch in her oversized jeans and blouse, her orange lipstick shining and her grey hair falling down to her neck; and last but not least, my sister, curled up on the other end of the couch and entirely focused on her phone.

 

“Hey, everyone. This is Dan.” All heads turned to us, a surprised look on their faces as if they hadn’t known we had arrived before. They were all horrible actors.

 

“Oh, hello Da-”, my German grandmother started to say before she was interrupted by my other grandmother who stood up and waddled over to us.

 

“ Mashallah,  you’ve grown so much!”, the little woman exclaimed, kissing me left and right cheek, “Miriam, such a beautiful young woman. Not like you’re sister with all black around her eyes.  Inshallah, your sister will look like you when she grows up!” Daniel glanced towards my sister who could very much hear my grandmother’s words but only rolled her eyes, being used to situations like this.

 

“And this is ‘Dan’? Dan is the whole name?”, my grandmother continued, raising a brow at him.

 

“Um, it’s Daniel Buchwald”, Daniel answered, looking slightly nervous. It was almost comical how my grandmother’s eyes widened, growing twice their usual size, and her jaw fell slack instantly. She turned to my father who also looked alerted, however, more because his mother seemed to be in shock.

 

“A- a Jew? Miriam dates Jewish guys?”, she yelled, causing my cheeks to flush. This was so  _embarrassing_ . Daniel simply blinked, letting her reaction sink in and it was for my other grandmother to quickly jump in. She stood up and walked over to Daniel, two heads taller than my other grandmother.

 

“Ah, who cares if you believe in God, Allah or Buddha, everyone can be crazy in their own way, right?”, she chuckled, causing my other grandmother to almost  _faint_ . She held her hand out to Daniel. “Hello Daniel, I’m Hilde. I’m the one you can go to if you want a beer or a cigarette, the others in this apartment are a little too close-minded for those things.” She winked at him to which Daniel chuckled awkwardly, giving me a look that told me he wanted to run. I truly could not blame him.

 

T hankfully, that was when my mother came in, her hands full of dishes that smelled insanely good. She placed them on the table before straightening up and giving us a warm smile. 

 

“You must be Daniel”, she greeted and shook his hand. “Miriam, Ally, get the rest of the food. Daniel, why don’t you sit down.” I tried to give my mother a I-can’t-leave-my-boyfriend-here-alone look but she was already ushering him to the table.

 

My sister and I were quick to bring all the pots and bowls full of various dishes to the table, not even surprised that my mother prepared about five different meals. We all sat down and I squeezed Daniel’s leg under the table, hoping to reassure him.

 

“I made the two risotto bowls here, this one is without wine and the other one is for Daniel and me”, Hilde explained with a wide, toothy smile, already filling her plate.

 

“Mother, Jewish people also don’t drink”, my mother corrected her with an unamused look. Hilde’s eyes opened wide.

 

“He doesn’t drink? What kind of young man in his twenties doesn’t drink? What kind of life is that?” Daniel swallowed thickly, gaze on his plate. He did drink a glass of wine now and then but now all family members were looking at him, the majority hoping he had never had a sip of alcohol in his life.

 

“When I was his age, I worked three different jobs”, my father piped in, leaning towards Daniel from the other side of the table. “ I had no sleep, barely no food but I worked for my family. I was only 15 when I started to work but I knew I was a man and couldn’t just sit around and do nothing.”

 

“Oh, you mean, like you do now?”, my mother countered, raising a brow at him. She took my father’s plate and put all kinds of foods on it.

 

“What are you saying? I’m working hard!” My mother and father were so focused on their argument that they barely noticed Daniel’s small voice, telling my mother she wouldn’t have to put the food onto his plate for him.

 

“Mom!”, I called, louder, “Dan can grab his food on his own!”

 

“Oh.” My mother froze and suddenly realised she already had his plate halfway filled. She gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I guess it’s routine. I can grab another plate for you?”

 

“No, it’s fine, thank you. I just eat that for now”, Daniel took his plate back, gulping at the amount of food on it already.

 

“Ah, but there isn’t meat on it yet! Daniel is a man, he needs to eat meat!”, my father protested, pointing at the plates of meat.

 

“Yes, a man needs to eat good meat”, his mother agreed, raising her pointy finger, “If you eat meat, your bones become strong! If you eat salad, your bones become weak. Women can eat salad because it’s in our genes that our bodies can absorb it! But men need meat.”

 

“I- I don’t think that’s true”, Daniel stammered. Ally snorted at that.

 

“We all know it’s not, you need to ignore half of the stuff they say”, she muttered and I was glad that she seemed to be in a better mood.

 

“Fatima, don’t be sexist. I think everyone needs meat! I like a good steak sometimes”, Hilde chimed in with a smile. I could already feel a discussion beginning to start so I quickly tried to stop it.

“Dan is vegetarian.”

 

The way everyone’s eyes widened made me wonder if my family realised how much importance they gave to, well, _food._

 

“Oh, I could not live like that”, Hilde tutted.

 

“When I was your age, I ate a lot of meat!”, my father said at same time his mother repeated her speech about the importance of meat.

 

Across the table, I caught my mother’s gaze and shrunk internally. She gave me a look that asked me how on earth I hadn’t told her about it while somehow managing to look like she was only smiling to everybody else at the table. The truth was that I didn’t want her to cook even more. I knew that if she had known, she would have cooked three more vegetarian dishes although we already had more than enough foods that didn’t contain any meat. I gave her an apologetic smile and half a shrug before I averted my gaze.

 

“Okay, everyone, we should eat before it gets cold!”, my mother called, bringing everyone to forget about the discussion and focusing on their food. At least for a little while.

 

“So, Daniel, what are you studying?”, my father asked curiously, causing my pulse to quicken slightly. I gave Dan a look, reminding him to be careful of his answer.

 

“Um, so, I used to study philosophy”, he murmured and quickly took a big bite to have an excuse not to answer any more.

 

“Philosophy?”, my father asked at the same time my mother asked, “Used to?” I knew that there wasn’t really a way out now.

 

“Yeah, I studied for two years before I decided it was not what I wanted to do.”

 

“Ah, good!”, my father exclaimed with a smile, “Philosophy is not a good subject to study. You won’t get a good job with just talking about fantasies and wondering if the sky is blue! Law and medicine are good majors!”

 

“Oh no, that sounds awfully boring!”, my grandmother Hilde huffed, shaking her head.

 

“Mother, please!”, my mother hushed, “I think it would be great to know a lawyer or a doctor. You never know when that kind of knowledge comes in handy.”

 

“I’m actually a singer.”

 

There was a moment of silence where I felt my last nerve dying dramatically. My grandmother’s mouths were wide open, my father seemed to have completely frozen and my mother’s smile looked more like a grimace now. Even my sister seemed to have stopped eating, the both of us knowing that chaos would ensue.

 

“I’m also not Jewish”, Daniel continued, “My ancestors are but, well, I don’t believe in those rules. I also drink, not often, but I enjoy a glass of wine sometimes. I have three tattoos, one on my back, one on my chest and one on my arm. All three have a meaning to me. I want to be a singer and I sell paintings of mine online. I know I seem like a horrible choice for your daughter, like a nightmare of boyfriends. But I love her and I promise to treat her well. I support her in her education and respect all of her decisions. I will do my best to always make her happy.”

 

A part of my mind told me to be terrified. My family seemed to be in shock after my boyfriend just came clean about things I wanted him to hide. But I couldn’t. I was...proud. Daniel respected that my family was the way it was, he respected their religion, their perspective, their chaoticness. He didn’t want to lie to them, to pretend he was someone he simply wasn’t. Daniel confessed his love for me in front of my whole family, sitting here with a straight back and open eyes, ready to receive whatever reaction would come.

 

My mother was the one that spoke up, a composed but sincere smile on her face.

 

“I appreciate your honesty, Daniel. I won’t pretend I’m happy about hearing your words but my priority is and always will be Miriam. What you do in your life is nothing of my concern as long as it doesn’t affect my daughter negatively. If you promise to not let your choices hurt her in any way, I will try to trust you and accept you into our family.”

 

I was stunned by my mother’s words, just like everybody else at the table. I knew how worried she was about her children and letting someone in that didn’t met her usual expectations was a huge step for her. It was a gesture of trust.

 

“I promise I won’t disappoint you”, Daniel said with a small, grateful smile. Under the table, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it and I held it back tightly.

 

 

When we said goodbye, I made sure to hug my mother for a moment. No words we needed and she understood how thankful I was. The night was chilly and Daniel and I walked slowly towards my own apartment, hands linked between us.

 

“So, what do you say?”, I asked, a teasing smirk on my face.

 

“The food was great!”, he answered with a bright grin before he sighed deeply, “I know your family didn’t like me that much but I could see how much they love you. They will accept me in their own time, I just have to earn it, I think.”

 

“We’ll get there.” I gave him a reassuring smile which he returned.

 

“We’ll get there.”

**Author's Note:**

> I usually write about Jimin and Yoongi from BTS being very soft and in love so if you're interested in that, check out my other stories! You can find my Kpop stan account on twitter @jinslostlines!


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